


carved from marble

by tootsonnewts



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: He does not succeed, M/M, a roundabout date, art club president! yuri, fratboy! otabek, in which otabek tries his best to be cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 11:59:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19272853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/pseuds/tootsonnewts
Summary: The worst thing about the fall campus festival is the fact that Otabek has to sit still behind a table while the most beautiful man on the face of the earth wanders around in front of him.Okay, maybe it’s not the worst thing, but the fact that Otabek can’t leave his frat’s belongings behind to give chase is sincerely frustrating the hell out of him. Truth be told, Otabek actually really loves manning the Sigma table for festivals. It’s the number one way their house gains new members, and an incredible chance to get all the phone numbers he wants.Well, all but one.in which otabek takes yuri on a kind-of-sort-of date.





	carved from marble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iguanastevens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iguanastevens/gifts).



> [rose](https://twitter.com/iguanastevens) specifically requested the following:  
> "a 2k SFW college AU fic about fuckboy!beka sort of accidentally stumbling into an art museum date with yuri? Otabek knowing an absurd amount about art and art history, and. maybe. pumpkin spice protein powder."  
> so, i did what i do best and leaned into my love of fratboy otabek!
> 
> i hope you enjoy it, rose!

The worst thing about the fall campus festival is the fact that Otabek has to sit still behind a table while the most beautiful man on the face of the earth wanders around in front of him.

Okay, maybe it’s not the  _ worst _ thing, but the fact that Otabek can’t leave his frat’s belongings behind to give chase is sincerely frustrating the hell out of him. Truth be told, Otabek actually really loves manning the Sigma table for festivals. It’s the number one way their house gains new members, and an incredible chance to get all the phone numbers he wants. 

Well, all but one.

Normally, Otabek loves manning the table alone. Every interested party has to go directly through him, and as president, it’s much easier for him to make a quick judgment from an interaction without the other person knowing who he is in the hierarchy. The current issue lies in where, precisely, his table is situated this semester. Normally, the Sigma house finds itself nestled right in the center of the rest of the organization houses. This year, however, their table was set up late, and so Otabek found himself seated at the very end of the line. Next to the art appreciation club table.

The art appreciation club headed up by one Yuri Plisetsky — Otabek’s walking dream. Since the day they first met, Otabek was taken by Yuri entirely. He’s willowy and blonde and beautiful, with a serious bite to his personality, and Otabek has spent much more time than he’d care to admit imagining his beautiful, blue eyes while he kisses other men.

The art club has three members currently representing them at the festival, so two lounge behind the table while Yuri meanders around handing out flyers and chatting up potential members. Otabek’s heart clenches as he watches Yuri throw his head back in laughter and settle a delicate hand down on a guy’s forearm as he tells a joke.

That should be Otabek’s joke.

That should be Otabek’s arm.

“Well, we’d love to see you for the trip this weekend,” Yuri says, handing the guy a flyer. “It’s a beautiful museum, and I bet you’d love it a lot more than you think.”

The guy flashes what Otabek can tell he thinks is a charming smile and brushes Yuri’s hand with his own as he accepts the flyer and turns to walk away. As soon as his back is turned, Yuri’s face falls into a disgusted expression. He stomps back to the table and throws his flyers down on top.

“If I have to flirt with one more dumbass musclehead just to get us attendance, then I think I’m just going to let this club die now.”

“Quit being dramatic,” a redhead lazily replies, snapping a piece of chewing gum in her mouth. “Why don’t you just deep condition less?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well then, I guess you’ll just have to deal with everyone thinking you’re pretty.”

“I don’t suppose you have an opinion?”

Several seconds of silence pass before Otabek realizes Yuri directed the question at him specifically. He looks up into his annoyed expression, and several angels deadass sing in his brain.

“I, uh—”

“Because if your opinion is to keep staring, you can keep it.”

Otabek pauses, clears his throat to buy some time. “Actually, I  _ was _ interested. In your trip. You said you were going to a museum?”

Yuri stops short.

“We are,” he says suspiciously.

“Well, can I have a flyer? I’d like to go with you.”

Yuri squints. “You don’t like art.”

“I like anything beautiful,” Otabek shrugs. The redhead snorts. Yuri crosses his arms. JJ appears as if magically, trudging along the sidewalk toward their table. He holds up a hand in greeting, which Otabek frantically returns. They dap each other up as he pulls up behind the table, and Otabek stands quickly.

“I need you to watch our shit for a minute.”

JJ, bless him, doesn’t even argue. He just nods and accepts his current fate. Otabek claps him on the shoulder in thanks as he passes and strolls as casually as possible over to the art appreciation club’s table. He grabs one of the leaflets and inspects it carefully.

“This Saturday at eight, if you can make it,” the redhead says brightly, grabbing Otabek’s attention. She sticks her hand out over the table for a shake. “I’m Mila. Yuri’s single. You know, in case you were wondering or anything.”

“Well I—” the flyer is snatched out of Otabek’s hand midthought, Yuri swiftly crumpling it up into a ball and throwing it at Mila.

“You aren’t invited.”

“Are you positive? I’m pretty sure that flyer said it was open to anyone who was interested in art.”

“Which  _ you _ are not.”

Otabek looks Yuri up and down. “Of course I am.”

“Gross.”

Yuri collects all the flyers from the tabletop and stomps away. Once he’s out of sight, Mila clears her throat and sneaks a fresh flyer into Otabek’s hand.

“Saturday at eight.”

“You got it.”

 

+++

 

Saturday comes faster than Otabek thought possible, and he finds himself in front of his bed, every clean shirt and pair of jeans he owns spread out over its surface. He’s in between a teal polo and parrot print button up when JJ wanders in.

“What’re you up to, man?”

Otabek sets a hand to his chin and hums. “Going to see some art today.”

“I hear Yuri likes animals.”

Otabek rolls his eyes.

“I’m not dumb, Bek. I know why you’re going. Wear the parrots and those jeans with the plain pockets.”

He strides out of the room before Otabek can argue that  _ yeah,  _ he might be going to see Yuri, but he also  _ does _ want to go see the art as well. It’s been a long time since he’s had reason to visit a museum, and he’s actually rather looking forward to it.

So with his outfit chosen, he sets out for downtown and what he hopes will be a great afternoon.

The art museum is a beautiful building, all told. Carved out of grand marble columns and arches, it stands beautifully against a backdrop of steel and asphalt. The art club is already gathered out front, waiting for any stragglers to show. As he approaches, Otabek makes careful eye contact with Yuri, who immediately flushes red and marches straight over.

“I told you that you weren’t invited.”

“By you, maybe,” Otabek says playfully. “Mila said I should come.”

A strong, thin arm loops through Otabek’s elbow. Speak of the devil.

“That I did!”

“Mila, why would you do this to me?” Yuri demands, his voice tinged by the slightest of whines.

“Oh, quit being dramatic. This’ll be fun!” She tugs Otabek over, depositing him square in front of Yuri and smirks. “See ya around!”

And like a ghost, she is gone. Otabek opens his mouth to suggest he and Yuri walk the museum together, but Yuri holds a hand up to stop him in his tracks.

“Absolutely not. Enjoy the museum. Don’t make any trouble. Goodbye.”

Just like Mila, he disappears, leaving Otabek with nothing but a view of his retreating back. Time for a new plan.

 

+++

 

The museum is just as beautiful on the inside. The floors are polished to a mirror-like shine, the exhibit halls are broken up in a way that makes sense and shows each piece in their most beautiful forms, and the air is fresh and purifier clean.

As he works his way through each room, studying the pieces and reading about them in the guide brochure, he manages to stumble upon Yuri once more. This time, he isn’t alone. A tiny ball of energy rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet as Yuri talks about a statue in front of them. Otabek recognizes the piece, having seen an article about it only a month before. 

Yuri waves his arms emphatically as he speaks. “So I just think it’s really interesting how the artist used movement to make his point, you know?”

The kid, who obviously does not know, nods his head fervently.

Otabek clears his throat. “And what do you think his point is?”

Yuri jumps slightly at the sound of Otabek’s voice, which isn’t entirely ideal, but at least he’s made an impression, he supposes. A perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow raises itself in Otabek’s direction.

“You know what this statue represents?” Otabek asks him.

“Personhood and the futility of fighting against our basest natures in order to become our best selves?”

Otabek pauses. 

“Shit, that's grim.” He points at the plaque. “It's about seagulls. The artist's dad was a ornithologist.”

Yuri looks like he wants to strangle him. The kid looks mildly impressed and horribly terrified.

“How the fuck do you know that?” Yuri demands. “You see it on the back of your pumpkin spice protein powder?”

“I read an article about it last month.”

Yuri looks knocks off center at that. “Oh.”

“Yeah. My mom is the curator for a museum back home. She taught me everything I know about art. Modern isn’t exactly my wheelhouse, but I do still appreciate it. I wasn’t lying when I told you that.”

Now Yuri looks impressed. “Minami.”

“Yeah?” the kid answers.

“Get outta here.”

“Yeah.” Minami takes off into another room, leaving Otabek and Yuri alone with the complicated bird metaphor before them.

“What else do you know?” Yuri asks.

“Like I said, not a lot, but enough to enjoy it. I’d like to know more, though.” Otabek looks at Yuri meaningfully.

“Alright, Romeo. Let’s take a walk.”

They take their time strolling through the museum, checking out each exhibit and talking through what they think they all could mean. Otabek hardly has anything to say, which is just as well with him, because just hearing Yuri talk about everything is enough for him. He’s animated and passionate as he speaks, so engaged in their surroundings and the messages he thinks each piece conveys. It’s incredibly endearing and Otabek can’t help but watch on fondly as Yuri gestures to every new work.

They end up in a room dedicated to the traveling showcase of a brand new artist on the scene’s work by the time the fifteen minute closing warning plays. It’s all very ham fisted, in Otabek’s opinion. The art, not the warning. Mounted on the wall before them is a gigantic, stretched tarp canvas globbed in heavy black paint mixed with hay. It looks very much like an extremely ill horse took a massive flu dump all over his stall, but who is Otabek to judge, he figures.

For what it’s worth, Yuri seems completely engrossed in the thing. The closing spiel breaks his concentration on a particularly thick clump of straw as he jumps and checks his watch.

“Holy fuck, I didn’t realize this much time’s gone by. Come on, we gotta get everyone together.” Yuri grabs Otabek’s wrist and drags him off through the museum, straight down the middle, collecting club members as they go.

It’s not until they reach the foyer of the museum that Yuri drops his arm. Mila notices and crooks an eyebrow, a wry smile on her face as she sidles up to Otabek’s side. Yuri doesn’t notice, preoccupied with chatting with Minami from earlier.

“So, Casanova, how’d we do?”

Otabek raises an eyebrow at her. “We?”

“Well, you weren’t going to nab him without my help, now were you?”

She’s not entirely wrong. If it weren’t for her intervention, Otabek isn’t totally sure Yuri wouldn’t have just knocked him out on sight this morning. He sighs at her as they all exit the museum.

“I’m not sure how we did,” he admits as they watch Yuri shoving club members in their cars to send them safely home. “He didn’t murder me, at least.”

“Then that means you did very well,” she laughs. “Yuri’s a tough nut to crack, but he’s one of the best people I know. If he hasn’t destroyed you by now, then you’re safe.”

“You think?”

Yuri approaches them, and Mila takes it as her cue to leave, calling back to him over her shoulder. “I know, loverboy!”

She punches Yuri’s shoulder as they pass each other, and then it’s just Otabek and Yuri alone. Yuri cocks his head over toward Otabek’s car and walks toward it with him.

“So, did you like it?”

Otabek pulls his keys out of his pocket as he contemplates. Even if he isn’t necessarily the most knowledgeable about modern art, the day was made much more fun with Yuri by his side. Bright, beautiful, whip-smart Yuri with a comment for everything and insight to follow. Otabek smiles.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Great.” Yuri plucks the keys out of Otabek’s hand and slips them into his driver’s side door, gesturing for Otabek to get in. Once the door is closed, Otabek rolls his window down to take his keys and say goodbye, but Yuri holds up a hand to stop him.

“Thank you for coming. Really. We don’t get a lot of interest, and it was nice of you to make an effort.”

“Of cour—”

“Next time, just ask me out instead of springing a surprise date on me, though, yeah?”

“That’s definitely not what I did,” Otabek argues. 

It’s definitely what he did.

“Sure thing, beefcake. Give me your phone.” Otabek does as requested and watches with extreme interest as Yuri puts his number in and hands it back. “How about you plan a real date next time, huh?”

Otabek can’t help the smile that floods his face as the wheels in his head already begin their turning. “No problem.”

“Good.” Yuri pats the roof of the car. “Bye.”

While Otabek drives off, he watches in his rearview mirror as Yuri watches him go and then strides to his own car to leave. Even from a distance, he’s striking. His steps are long and sure, graceful with their intent. Otabek knows exactly what they’ll be doing on their first real date. He whips his phone out of his pocket at a red light.

**Yuri:** **_Hey, do you like ice skating?_ **

**Author's Note:**

> if you'd like, you can come see me over on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_tootsonnewts)! i'd love to say hi!


End file.
